


The Wicked Welcome

by ThickThighedDrone



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Exploitation, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Polygamy, Sticky, Unhealthy Relationships, galactic freak show of sorts, gender confused character, mentions of noncon, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:09:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThickThighedDrone/pseuds/ThickThighedDrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their planet is dead. Their leaders are dead. What is there left to do? Why, hop on an entertainment ship and travel the universe, of course!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pins and Needles

**Author's Note:**

> Things may come off as a little confusing in the first chapter. Don't worry, everything will be explained as chapters are added. One thing to make clear at the very beginning though, Drift and Deadlock are brothers and there are other instances of character canon divergences. Hopefully, you all will have fun and enjoy the show!  
> Also, I listen to a lot of Silversun Pickups. I imagine my version of Nightbird having that same androgynous voice as the male lead singer. Most of the chapter titles will share the name of songs that inspired me while writing them.

The Wicked Welcome

Chapter 1 ~

~~~~~~~~~

K-chak!

Blue optics didn’t flinch, the same couldn’t be said for the nervous, yet amazed, patron holding the target above its head. Well…above one of its heads. Sparkling bright pink paint dripped down from the bulls-eye as the crowd cheered.

“Another perfect hit, folks!”

Bluestreak just smiled softly to himself and focused on his next target. This time, a smaller, possibly a juvenile of the species, held up a target that was handed to them further back and up the stadium.

K-Chak!

Another perfect splatter of pink and another round of cheering filled the stadium. His part was done.

“That’s our sharp shooter! Best there is in the galaxy!” The short announcer with the wide purple optics continued to boast about the winged mech till he was off the performance ring. As always, he continued to smile and wave till he was in the privacy of the exit tunnel.

“Ya don’t seem too happy with your performance. Seemed flawless as always, baby blue.” Jazz was his usual cheerful self as he flung an arm around the Praxian’s shoulders. Bluestreak vented a sigh, but smiled at the black and white mech.

“I just wish Swindle wouldn’t brag so much after my performance. I mean, I know he’s trying to psyche up the crowd, but…it’s kinda embarrassing.” Doorwings drooped just a little, causing them to bounce a bit more as they walked down the tunnel to the resting area with the other performers.

“Listen, Blue…” Jazz made a point to poke him in the chest and squeeze him a bit closer, “Don’t ya _ever_ doubt yourself. Ya deserve all that praise, so just enjoy it! Besides, ‘re makin’ people happy. That alone should make ya proud.”

That made the grey and red mech smile, he could always count on Jazz to try and brighten his mood. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be doing a show in one of the outside tents?”

“Boss told me to grab ya, got a couple of newbies for ya to show around.”

“What?! Me? _Again?_ ”

“Ha! That’s what ya get for bein’ so sociable, kid! Also, they’re going to be your neighbors…so better get t’know them, hm?”

Wings suddenly hiked up into a startled and defensive V shape. “Whoa! Jazz, you know I can’t have neighbors!”

That landed him an apologetic look and a clasp to the shoulder. “Sorry, baby Blue. We’re running outta room on the ship. ‘M sure they’ll understand, though.”

Bluestreak stared at him for a long hard moment before sighing and drooping his shoulders and doorwings. “Yeah…Yeah, I should have known it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“Chin up, Blue…’m sure it’ll all work out. Now, go show our new family members around.” He grinned and pinched one of the sniper’s cheeks, earning him a soft punch to the shoulder before he managed to get away.

\-----

“How…just… _how_ did you talk me into this?”

“Aw, c’mon, Sunny!” The red twin put his hands on his golden brother’s shoulders. “Think about it! We can actually say now that we’ve run away and joined the circus!”

There was a soft click of a vocalizer resetting as the half-drone next to them raised a hand. “We don’t really like to use that term here.” Pale yellow optics looked over the two as the owner of the show stood from her desk.

“Er…” Sideswipe turned and shrugged a little, “sorry, sir…uh, ma’am?” He stressed the last pronoun; honestly he hadn’t figured out yet if the mech before them was that or a femme. He knew that she had once been a femme, but…she was rather different now. Taller, wider and with a rather androgynous voice that was soft yet coarse.

“Please, Nightbird will do.” Small creases at the corner of her optics suggested that she was smiling behind her mask. “I know, all those ages ago I was quite smaller. Once I was able to establish my sentience, I decided that looking more ‘nuetral’ just felt right. Most still refer to me as ‘she’, which is okay…I understand that it makes things easier since I don’t have a set label. Old habits die hard and all that nonsense.”

“Tch, what I don’t understand is how you even gained sentience.” Sunstreaker sounded a bit skeptical, but Sideswipe was quick to perk up with interest.

“That, my lovelies, is a story for another day…” she paused, a curious set of light blue optics peering into her doorway caught her attention. “Ah, I see your guide is here.” She waved Bluestreak into her office, chuckling some as the still shy mech suddenly gasped then launched himself at the twins.

“Sunny! Sides!” Despite Sunstreaker holding up his hands to protect his finish, he was knocked into as the overly excited doorwinger tried to pull them both into a hug at the same time. “Oh, Primus! Jazz didn’t tell me it was you two that joined our ranks!”

“Haha! Little Blue, that slagger didn’t say anything to us either!” Strong red arms were already picking up the praxian and hugging him. Sunstreaker settled for giving him a friendly pat on the arm. Happy reunions weren’t exactly his thing, even if he was happy to see the smaller mech. Honestly, it will be nice to know that at least a few people around here will be happy with his presence. He didn’t exactly win any personality awards among the Autobots during the war.

“Gentlemechs, if you don’t mind, I have business to attend to. Take some time getting settled in, then we’ll go over some more of the basics of being part of this troupe.” The purple and grey drone moved over to a table against the wall and proceeded to attach her back compartment.

Blue stopped pestering the twins for a moment to blink at his boss. “You’re heading out, Birdie?”

A clawed hand made sure to give the sweet mech a rub to the helm as the drone made her way out. “I have another lost soul to find…though; something tells me this one is already dead. Should make things easier.”

Bluestreak just nodded and quietly wished her luck as she left the room to make her way off the ship.

“Ooookay, what was that about?” Sunstreaker jerked his thumb behind him towards the door. Frag, this place just kept getting stranger and stranger. What the hell have they gotten themselves into?

“It’s a long story.” He smiled at the two of them and hooked an arm around each of theirs. “You’ll eventually get filled in on all the weirdness around here, but let me show you around first! It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you guys! What made you decide to join the _Wicked Welcome_? Oh oh, do you know who all is here?! There’re a lot of us! Cons too. Though, I guess we should all be considered neutrals. Birdie calls us family, ya know, since we all watch out for one another. I wonder who she’s going to go pick up this time. Hmm, last time she managed to find those femmes that form the bigger femme. It’s kinda strange calling her ‘her’, ya know? She doesn’t really look like the other femmes, but, it also kinda feels weird to call her a ‘he’. That makes me wonder why our race doesn’t have a neutral pronoun. There’s actually this one race that has 27 different genders! 27! How do they even keep track of that I mean...”

Sideswipe smiled over Bluestreaks helm at his brother who returned the grin, all while the praxian babbled on. Yeah, this was definitely going to feel more like home.

\-----

“Such a shit hole of a planet…” Nightbird muttered to herself as she pushed past thick interweaving vines. They weren’t a match for her energon saber, but frag, they were annoying. The small thrusters in her back compartment weren’t meant for precision or long range flying, so she had to hoof it through the valley filled with dense orange vegetation and not-so-friendly wildlife. It would pay off though, these little excursions always did. Having the show be able to perform at the same time was just an added bonus. No locals to interfere with her work. Ah, there.

“A dark and damp cave…how typical, decepticons never were that imaginative.” No need for lights, the former assassin worked best in the dark. If anything bothered the drone, it was the putrid smell of old energon and curdled fluids. It was honestly surprising, though, just how close to the mouth of the cave her prize was.

“How cruel, leaving you just close enough to feel the wind on your…oh, I see.” She hummed in amusement.

A black helm jerked up as useless empty optic sockets tried to look about. Broken wings, more like stumps, flicked and scratched against the cave wall as the poor being weakly pulled on the restraints binding him to the wall.

- _krrttz!_ -

“Of course they would take that from you too.” Smiling, Nightbird knelt down beside the broken mech, placing a hand over his opened and battered spark chamber. “Shhh, easy, Starscream…” Undoing his restraints was easy, any normal strength mech could have easily broken free of them. That just went to show the amount of pain and torture the poor flier endured before being dumped and left on this miserable planet with its simpleminded inhabitants. The mechs who did this to him obviously knew he wouldn’t have the strength to break free once they were done.

“I know you don’t remember me, after all I didn’t have a voice back then. Times have changed, we’ve all changed, but one thing has remained a constant. You know what that is?” Scooping up the broken mess of a mech, the drone started out of the cave and along the route back to the ship. “You never die. I wonder how long you would have gone in that cave before your frame rusted away and only your spark remained. Shhh, calm now, I’m taking you someplace safe.”

The seeker’s fidgeting stopped, not that he would have gotten very far with one arm and half a leg.

“You’re one of us, you know. A freak…an outcast…monster. We have many names.”

Starscream was suddenly limp again in her arms; it wasn’t surprising considering he had no fuel in his systems.

“Personally, I prefer ‘family’.”

 

 


	2. Well Thought out Twinkles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW briefly in this chapter.   
> The following chapters are more likely to be focused on a pair of characters instead of a handful like these first two chapters. I figured that since a good part of the cast has been introduced, we can now focus on individual viewpoints/roles of the story. Hope you enjoy! oh, fair warning, next chapter will contain heavy NSFW.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with him, Nightbird?”

“Fix him.”

“Fix…what?! But, it’s _him_!”

If Ratchet could possibly frown any deeper he would. He kept glancing down at the mangled seeker laid out on his table. The medic would be lying if he denied that the sight actually made him feel sorry for Starscream. Torn off wings, missing limbs, no voice or optics, just a pathetic soul trapped in a useless body. “How is he even still alive?”

“I would tell you…” there was as knowing tease in her voice that made the doctor roll his optics.

“Let me guess, another one of your voodoo hokum theories. Uhg, puh-lease.”

“Which is why I’m not telling you. Just fix him, he’s one of us now.”

Red hands came up to rub at the medic’s temples as he shuttered his optics tightly. “I can’t even begin to tell you how uncomfortable I am with this.” He looked up, opening his mouth to give the various reasons _why_ repairing Starscream wasn’t exactly a good idea, only to find that he was now alone with his patient. “Fragging ninja drone.”

There was a twitch of movement from the mech in front of him and a small buzz of static from a broken vocalizer. Ratchet sighed in defeat.

Gathering his tools and grumbling about how he’d rather deal with morgue duty on their dead planet than fix the Con’s ex-SIC, he sent a communications ping to First Aid. He was going to need an extra set of hands, and pit dammit he wasn’t going to suffer alone!

````````

“Hnn!” the small medic’s helm dropped back, red and white hands shaking as they tightened around his lover’s helm. “B-Blaster! Ah…ahn!”

The communications expert just smiled smugly to himself before flicking his glossa over that pretty little outer node again. This had to be his favorite past time, propping his darling medic up on his work station and making of feast of him. It was mandatory that he keep a firm hold on his lover’s thighs, unless he wanted his helm to be crushed…not that it would be a bad way to offline.

Aid’s legs were really starting to shake now as he fought the strong urge to thrust his whole array up against Blaster’s face. Frag this mech and his talented mouth! He always managed to reduce him to a writhing puddle of whimpers and bodily fluids. Ah! Just a bit more!

- _Ping-_

_-PING PING PING-_

“Bla-Blaster! Hn..s-stop!” Reluctantly, First Aid started to push the other mech’s face away from his throbbing valve.

“Aw, c’mon babe, ya almost there!” Blaster whined and tried to lean back in before Aid stopped him, keeping a hand on his forhelm to hold him back.

“R-Ratchet is comming me on my emergency line…” Shuttering his optics tightly, he took a moment to calm himself and slow his vents.

Blaster remained pouting between his mate’s thighs.

::Aid here::

::Bout time you answered, kid! I need you in the ward NOW::

Aid didn’t even bother asking why, if Ratchet needed him then it HAD to be important. ::On my way!:: He cut the link, shimmying  off the desk and pulling a rag out of a small storage compartment in his armor to clean himself with.

“Seriously?” Blaster’s helm dropped as his shoulder’s sagged, slumping back in his chair and huffing a bit as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry, Blaster.” Bright blue optics looked apologetic behind a visor as he tucked his rag away once finished. “I promise I’ll be back once I help Ratchet with whatever this emergency is.” He gave his big mech a sly smile and leaned over, placing his hands on the sitting mech’s knees and kissing his fluid covered lips. “I’ll make it up to you…anyway you want me to.”

“I think I can live with that.” The communication’s bot smiled and took the medic by the helm to steal a few kisses before letting him leave. After the door closed behind Aid, Blaster noticed the puddle he left on his desk. “Hm, always leaving me to clean up the mess.” He gave a small snort, but smiled as he went about tidying up.

```````````````

Checking himself over again for any fluid spots he might have missed, Aid hurried into the medical ward. He stopped when he saw Ratchet and Wheeljack leaning over crippled lump of a mech on one of the medical berths. If Wheeljack was called in as well, it MUST have been bad! Hurrying over, he stopped short. “Oh! Is…is that…?”

“Yes, It’s exactly who you think it is. Surprise.” Ratchet mumbled and threw his hands up in a mocking gesture.

“C’mon, Ratch, he can still hear you…I think.” The engineer gave a sympathetic look from Aid to Starscream. “Besides, you know the rules of this place. We all get a chance to start a new life…even cons like Starscream.”

There was more grumbling from the older medic as Aid made his way over to the berth. After assessing the damage, the younger mech went about prepping trays to help get the seeker whole again. This was going to take some time; he couldn’t help but also feel bad for his once enemy. The young protectobot has always had a soft spark though, especially for those who are suffering.

 There was a small chuff from Ratchet as he heard Wheeljack start to talk Starscream through everything they were doing. Letting him know when he was going to remove a bundle of burnt wires or clean out his orbital sockets. Ratchet wasn’t as well mannered, simply going about his work as if he was working on a patient deep in stasis.

A scarred hand gently cupped the side of Starscream’s face as a cloth dabbed around the torn metal from where an optic was ripped out.

“Shhh, easy.” He hummed as he tried to keep the seeker from pulling away, frowning behind his mask at the pitiful broken trill coming from the busted vocalizer. “I’ll get to your vocalizer once I find some new optics for ya…I think Aid is getting some out of storage. I’m sure you’ll feel at least a little better once you’re able to see again. I know, ya must be freaking out a little having ‘bots working on ya. It’s okay though, let me tell ya about this place…er…ship. You’re on _The Wicked Welcome_ , a performance ship, I guess ya could say. We travel to different planets, trading entertainment for resources and credits. Sounds strange, yeah, I know…but it’s actually a lot of fun!”

“Pah! Yeah, if you like being exploited.”

“Ignore him, the rest of us actually have a lot of fun with it. Oh, and it’s not just veteran ‘bots. Cons and neutrals are also a part of our little strange family now. Like Birdie says, “Everyone gets a second chance to live”.” 

There was the hiss of hydraulics as the ward doors opened and Flatline walked in. For such a large medic he was rather quiet with his steps as he walked over to the others. “Sorry, I would have been here sooner, but I had to find someone to cover the curiosity cabinet.” He came up short of the berth, red optics widening as he saw who exactly was on the med-berth. “Starscream?”

The flier’s head jolted some as he spat static, his one good arm coming up and fondling the air, reaching for that familiar voice. Finally, someone he knew and trusted! There was soon a large black servo in his own petting his knuckles and soothing the seeker.

“Long time no see, commander.” The black medic said softly. “Don’t fret, my colleagues and I will have you functioning again soon.”

“I didn’t realize you had the ‘pleasure’ of working with the con’s second in command, thought you were mainly stationed with Turmoil.” Ratchet noted offhandedly as he removed useless wires and pieces of metal strut from the seeker’s leg. Frag, at this point he might as well removed the whole thing and start from scratch.

Flatline chuckled some as his free hand pulled up schematics on the holo screen that was over the berth, seeing if they had suitable replacement parts for Screamer’s vocalizer. “Given my size, it was more ideal for me to handle the more severe injuries of patients that were known to fight during treatment. He’s actually rather pleasant once you get pain killers in him.” Starscream suddenly tried to pull his arm away and hit the medic as he somehow managed to look cross even in his weakened state. “Ha! Still hasn’t changed, I see.”

 Audio fins blinked a happy yellow as Wheeljack perked up some. It was nice to see the seeker displaying something other than absolute misery. “At least we know his audio receptors are working!”

They had a lot of work ahead of them, but Starscream was lucky to have such talented hands on the job. Maybe after they fixed his vocalizer, he can finally figure out just what the hell is going on around here! Bots and cons working together on some sort of galactic entertainment ship? He sincerely hoped he wouldn’t regret being dragged from his hell in that cave.

```````

Arms braced on the side of the dark ornate desk as the black and white mech pulled himself up, resting on his forearms as he split his legs wide open and bowed his back strut to what looked like unnatural angles. Just because Flatline talked him into watching the Medical Curiosities tent (also known as the cabinet) didn’t mean he couldn’t perform at the same time. He smiled charmingly at the timid multiheaded local life-forms as they cautiously made their way inside.

“No need to be frightened, my friends. These preserved oddities are simply…” he took a moment to rest his pedes on his shoulders, chuckling lightly as the children of some of the patrons awed at him, “…accidental, yet beautiful, gifts of nature!” As long as they didn’t ask him any specifics about the strange mutations and body parts in the glass jars, he would be alright till Flatline returned.

That was the one good thing about Jazz being a part of the show, even with alien races he always managed to charm them. If it wasn’t his impressive ability of bending his metal body into tantalizing angles, it was his smile and laid back nature that made most patrons relax enough to enjoy the provided entertainment.

His helm tilted to the side a little as a com ping started to come through. ::And what can I do for ya, Drift?::

::Jazz! Are you still watching Flatline’s tent?:: The swordsmech sounded pained and on edge.

Jazz’s balanced faltered a little as he lowered himself to sit on what is usually the medic’s desk. ::Drift, what’s wrong?::

::I just got into a bad fight with Deadlock. He’s…he’s in one of his moods again and heading to cabinet!::

Jazz suddenly froze and looked around at the patrons, who were thankfully leaving. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Well, shit.”


	3. Cradle (Better Nature)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW  
> Deadlock and Flatline both have accents, but 'Locks tends to be a lot heavier. Flatline sometimes loses his accent when he needs to seem more professional.   
> And thanks for comments and kudos! I love any kind of feedback!

_help me swallow up_

_all of your better nature_

_please can you summon up_

_all of your better nature_

_Cradle (Better Nature) by Silversun PIckups_

``````````

“You can’t just leave in the middle of practice when we have a performance later!”

“Ya knicked me! Twice ya idiot!”

“If you would have just stayed still I wouldn’t have hit you!”

Deadlock stopped in his tracks and turned to stare down his brother. “Stayed still?! I was on a spinnin’ wheel!” He spat, deep voice on the edge of yelling as he clenched his fists. He didn’t need this, not now. The darker speedster’s optics flickered as he held back his temper. It was such a struggle these days just to keep it in check.

“You were moving your head. I’ve told you numerous times to keep your limbs straight and still!”

“Oh, this is slag…ser’sly? Lemme guess, ya just blamin’ me cause ya wanted pay back for me shootin’ ya the other day!”

“What? No, I knew that was an accident. We’re going to have them, Deadlock, if our act involves knives and guns! Stop trying to make me out to be the bad guy all the time!”

Drift had a take a step back as Deadlock growled and leaned closer.

“Ya sayin’ I’m the bad guy then? Huh? After everythin’ we been through, ya wanna keep puttin’ ya faults on me!”

“That’s not…uuhhgg! Why are you putting words in my mouth?” The swordsmech huffed rather heavily through his vents as he tossed his hands up in exasperation. “Besides, if I wanted payback for all the times you’ve hurt me I’d have to do a lot more than scrape you with a knife!”

There was no warning, just the sharp movement of an arm pulling back and a loud crack as Deadlock’s fist connected with Drift’s jaw, sending the lighter twin hard to the ground. “Fuck you! Ya little shit, wouldn’ even be alive without me!”

Drift didn’t say anything as he held his jaw and practically hissed at his brother before launching himself from the ground. In the blink of an optic, the two were soon rolling around on the ground of the training area, trading punches and kicks. It seemed like once the spilt energon finally started to become noticeable a few mechs became brave enough to step in and break up the fight.

Deadlock couldn’t tell who was pulling him off his brother, but judging by the strength it was probably the large leader of the Victorion gestalt. He was still growling and spatting obscenities at his brother who was being dragged to the other side of the training area by Trailbreaker and Glitch. Finally, managing to break free of Pyra Magna, Deadlock snapped at anyone in his path as he stormed out of the exit leading outside of the ship.

“Frag, Drift…what the hell was that about?” Trailbreaker was helping to move the white speedster to a bench, not wanting him to put weight on his obviously busted knee. Drift always came away with the worse injuries of the two.

“D-don’t ask…” he coughed a bit and raised a hand to the side of his helm. “Gotta…gotta warn Jazz.”

````

“Well, shit.” Jazz cut the com from Drift and hurried outside to keep patrons from entering the tent. A lame, yet viable, excuse like spilt preservation chemicals would keep them out.

Only the front overhang of the cabinet was actually made out of heavy-duty fabric. Just to give the actual room an esthetic to match the theme of their show. The whole of the cabinet itself was two separate rooms that have been detached from _The_ _Wicked Welcome_ itself, much like many of the attraction tents.

Little did Jazz realize that the back room that served as Flatline’s quarters had its own back entrance. While he kept his guard up outside of the cabinet’s entry, searching the crowd for the supposedly rampaging speedster brother, there was a loud crash from inside the tent.

“Uhhgg.” He sagged a little before hurrying back inside. The black and white mech was hit with the smell of embalming chemicals and other unpleasant fluid odors, making him halt in his steps.

“Wh’the fuck is it?!” The grey mech snarled as he ripped open another display cabinet and started pulling out bottles, throwing them to the floor when they didn’t hold the contents he was searching for. “Know he’s hidin’ some ‘round here…” In his anger he didn’t even register Jazz in the room with him.

“Hold on a min’, mech! Ya can’t just go around-“ Jazz’s advance towards the disruptive intruder was cut short by a large clawed hand. “Bout time ya got here!”

Flatline just gave Jazz a shake of his head and turned him towards the door. “It’s best if ya leave and let me deal with him.”

“Ya can’t be serious…” Jazz was trying to push against the much bigger mech, trying to get him to let him stay and help. Deadlock had obviously lost it…and they all knew just how dangerous he can be when he gets like this.

“Just trust me on this. I know what to do and ya being around isn’t goin’ to help. Go…juggle in front of the tent or something to distract people.” With that he practically shoved the small mech out of the cabinet and locked the entrance behind him. Resting his hands on the door, he took in a deep vent and slowly let it out before turning around and calmly making his way over to the hysteric mech. He ignored the crunch of broken glass under his pedes, but was mindful not to step on his specimens which came from the discarded jars.

Deadlock suddenly stilled as he felt hands on his shoulders, setting a bottle back down that he had just picked up. “Where’s it?”

“Where’s what?” His deep voice was soft as he slowly pulled Deadlock back from the shelf. “Drugs, right? Don’t have any, kid.”

With a sharp growl, Deadlock spun around and slammed his balled up fists against Flatline’s broad chest. “LIAR!” He was shaking, “ _You’re_ not supposed to lie to me!” to any other mech it may have looked like the result of rage and frustration, especially with the burning emotion in his overly bright red optics.

The medic knew better. He knew all too well what this was and his own optics only reflected pity towards the snarling ex-guttermech.

“ ‘M not lying, kid. Had to get rid of them after the last time you did this.” He winced some as those fists flattened against his chest plate and started to sink in claws that gripped tightly. “Ya almost off’ed yourself…” Ignoring the pain in his plating, he lowered his own grip to rest on Deadlock’s arms.

“I _need_ somethin’!” His snarls started to sound like pleas as he looked up at his medic with clenched fangs, jaw trembling from the sheer force. “’M gonna hurt someone! Ya know I will!” he lowered his helm to rest his crest on Flatline’s chest. “Don’ let me hurt anyone…not again!”

Soothing hands moved to stroke down the grey mech’s back. Frag, the speedster had really worked himself up this time, his whole frame felt like fire from his systems getting over charged. Flatline didn’t say anything as he carefully pulled back and moved to take the ex-con’s claws and hands off of him. Touching his helm to Deadlock’s was all he needed to do to be allowed to lead him into the back room. He had to be careful though; one wrong move, one wrong word…and he’d be fighting to defend himself from the smaller, yet deadly, mech. Even his previously earned wounds from his brother wouldn’t slow him down in the slightest.

The back room was not as spacious as the front, but Flatline didn’t need a whole lot of room for his personal things that weren’t part of his collection. There was a berth pushed up in the far corner, a desk that could comfortably work for a mech his size, and a metal medical berth on the opposite side of room from the recharging berth. The sight of it made Deadlock’s legs shake.

“Ya…ya gonna help me not feel?”

“Yeah, we’ll get all that pent up shit out of that helm of yours. Promise.”

“No one will know?”

“Just us…as usual.”

The large black mech started easing Deadlock towards the medical berth. They’ve been through this so many times, but each time was a new struggle to remind the manic mech that it did, in fact, help him.

“Nothin’ funny, right? Ya know I’ll rip ya helm off.”

Flatline let his mask part as he watched his friend climb onto the berth, smiling as he saw the smaller fighter try to keep his plating from rattling against the cold metal. “Nothin’ funny. Ya know I care about ya.” He reached out and pushed just a bit on Deadlock’s hip, signaling that he wanted him on his stomach this time. After a few choice swears and another threat to end him if he got sentimental again, the grey mech complied and laid on his front, his vents kicking up another notch as the medic moved to pull the restraints up from underneath the berth.

The restraints were applied to Deadlock’s wrists quickly, Flatline knew that if he lingered the other would most likely lose what little patience he had and strike out blindly. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Flatline took a moment to stand at the head of the berth, gentle and caring hands slowly sliding up long and sensitive finials before he leaned down to kiss the base of one.

That earned him another deep growl from the bound mech. “Just…do somethin’ already, ya slagger!” he yelled as he pulled on his restraints. “Scrap ya sentimental shit an’ frag me already!” he couldn’t take the soft touches, they were definitely not what he wanted right now. He wanted something hard, fast and painful! Anything to get his mind off his rage and these horrible demons that lurked in his spark. He would never actually admit that he wanted, _really wanted,_ was to punish himself.

“Easy, kid.” Flatline leaned away and moved around the berth. “You’re gonna kick yourself offline if ya keep getting’ worked up.”

“Idiot! “M gonna offline if ya don’t hurry up and –AH!” There was suddenly a large hand clenched around his scorching panel, kneading at the malleable metal. “Mn! Th-that’s it! Now ya get it…” he shifted, having to keep his chest on the berth as he pulled his knees under him and lifted his aft up, panel shamelessly sliding back and presenting himself to Flatline. The berth shifted as the black mech climbed onto it behind him, he moaned as he felt a spreader bar be fitted between his knees, limiting his motions even more. “Hnn…keep forgettin’ what a fraggin’ pervert ya are.” Hands clenched against the berth as he felt the tips of a few fingers slide across the slick outer folds of his valve.

“Now, Deadlock…I can’t have ya makin’ too much noise.” He made the prone mech tense and try to arch up as he leaned over his back, possibly making him think he was going to spike him already. What deadlock wasn’t expecting was a thick piece of leather suddenly being pushed between his lips and teeth then quickly fastened around his helm.

He bucked his body and pulled on all his restraints as he fought against the intrusion in his mouth. It was NOT going to budge. Soon, those talented fingers where back at his valve, two slowly sliding in and massaging around for certain nodes. Oh, the medic knew how to play him well, just a few rubs to a certain cluster just to the left of his entrance had him gripping at the berth and yelping against his gag.

“I know ya don’t like the gag, I’m sorry for that, but the show is packed tonight and I can’t have ya drawin’ attention, huh?” Something cold and hard started to slide into Deadlock’s valve. “Now, you’ve left me quite a mess out there and I can’t just leave it like that. So…” the grey speedster suddenly jolted as the object inside of him buzzed to life, lighting up his nodes just enough to be pleasantly teasing. “I need to leave ya here for a while, kid.” He manually shut the valve cover with the toy still inside and turned on, a magnetic clamp applied to the outside ensured that the restrained mech couldn’t open it.

Deadlock was practically screaming behind his gag as he felt Flatline climb off the berth. How _dare_ he leave him like this! He squirmed as he could feel lubricant start to seep out from behind his valve cover and tried again to pull free from the restraints. Honestly, he should know by now that Flatline only keeps the very best around for him.

Ignoring the creaking of the berth and the muffled threats of the other mech, Flatline simply ran a servo over Deadlock’s helm before leaving him. It really did pain him to do this, but he knew the mentally anguished mech needed it. Step one: wear him out. Step two: Thoroughly relieve his charge. Step three: Be there for as long he needs him afterwards.

Stepping into the main area of the cabinet, he quietly closed the door to block out the noises of struggle. Frag, the whole place was a mess and some of his favorite specimens needed to be rehoused into new jars _quickly._

“Dammit, Deadlock.”

\----------

Over an hour later, after his area of the show was officially shut down for the night and the barriers were put up to keep the locals out of that zone, most were no doubt in the main area right now for the bigger shows anyway, the curator of the cabinet shut off the lights and retired back into his quarters.

“Mmnn…mmmn…nnn!”

And wasn’t that a sight to see…the tethered mech writhing on the berth and whimpering around his gag. As Flatline calmly made his way to the head of the berth the speedster gave a weak jerk to one wrist restraint. His face was pressed against the no longer cool metal, cheekguard resting in a puddle of his own oral lubricant that managed to seep out. Flatline ran his fingertips over the deep claw marks in the berth, a sign of just how much the mech struggled. Moving back around, the whimpering only got louder as the berth creaked from the medic adding his weight.

“Shhh…I’m here now, we can continue.” Running a soothing hand over the other’s hips, oh he knew they had to be sore by now, he took the magnetic clamp off the other’s valve cover, smiling a bit to himself as it instantly slid open. The amount of fluid that poured out was obscene, it was even enough that the vibrator slid out on its own, landing in the already large puddle on the berth.

A small moan was heard from the medic as he finally released his spike and just the sound of its panel opening had the bound mech trying to push back against it as best he could. Leaning over the other’s back, Flatline purred as he trailed soft kisses up the back of Deadlock’s neck. His spike slid between soaked valve lips, gently rocking back and forth to cover the thick length without actually penetrating yet. The friction to his outer nodes had Deadlock almost sobbing and shuttering his optics tightly, feeling as if he was going to die if Flatline kept teasing him. He jolted some as he suddenly felt the gag being removed, his voice was hoarse as he groaned and worked his jaw a little to relieve the ache.

“L-line…Line..nn! C..C’mon!” Small whines fell between his pleas as the ache deep in his valve had his whole body shaking hard. Flatline waited, simply rocking the topside of his spike up against the other’s puffy folds and outer nodes. “Fuckin’ AH! PLEASE!” One particularly hard rock had finally broken the grey mech.

All Flatline needed was that one word…and he was sure he was going to get clocked later for making him say it. Dropping a kiss onto the back of Deadlock’s helm he leaned back and firmly took him by the hips, before he could be berated for going too slow he managed to slide his thick spike into that waiting valve with one quick movement. He had to fight to not double over the other from the suddenly heat and tightness, honestly, he was still amazed the smaller mech could fit his length and girth so easily.

“Ah! A-Ahhnnmm!” Dark grey hips stilled as he adjusted to the sudden large intrusion inside of him, but frag, it stretched him so deliciously…not even having to try to reach his ceiling node.

It had taken quite a few times in the beginning for Deadlock to convince Flatline he wasn’t made of glass. The speedster seemed more than fine though, especially now as he started to thrust quickly and deep into that squeezing wet valve. Their hips clanged together as he drove forward while Deadlock thrust his hips back to meet him with each thrust. Flatline was a quiet lover, but Deadlock more than made up for it.

“Ah! Nn! Nnn! F-frag! Ahhn! H-Ha-AH-Harder! Fuck me harder!”

The heavy duty engine of medic suddenly revved loudly as he dug his fingers into the other’s hips, pulling him back forcefully with each thrust now. All of his vents and his mouth were open, heat pouring out as he fought off his building charge. It was a rule, his lover’s always overloaded first. It was hard to keep focused however, the constant yelps and whines that were pulled from the mech below him with every thrust was just ramping him up even more. His little speedster was so gorgeous like this, writhing beneath him and demanding more.

There was soon a different kind of whimper coming from the mech being plowed into relentlessly. Deadlock fought it, fought back the sick feeling building in his spark as unwanted flashes of dirty berth mats and wet alleyways crossed his processor. Try as he may to hold onto the pleasure he was feeling, the images were just too overwhelming. He was soon knocking on the medical berth as best he could with his body being jarred constantly. “R-RODION!” As soon as the word left his mouth a loud sob followed and he found himself strutless against the berth. The restraints were quickly being undone and the spreader bar removed and tossed over the side of the berth.

Flatline felt like his spark was going to stop as he carefully rolled the trembling mech over. He looked at Deadlock’s tightly shuttered optics before nuzzling his helm against his and kissing trembling lips. “Hey…hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He whispered as he felt shaking arms wrap around his neck and he knew that was a signal to continue. Letting Deadlock decide when to part his legs again, he gently purred his engine and let the mech below him nuzzle into his neckcables. Once they were connected again, Flatline was slow and gentle, making sure to move a hand between them and rub at Deadlock’s main anterior node in steady soft circles.

The smaller mech’s release was quiet, but drawn out by Flatline’s careful and fluid motions. Pressing his face into the medic’s neck more as he arched and rode the small pulses of overload, hoping the soft pleasure and secure frame above him will chase the past away. He didn’t even notice the small grunt as his larger lover finally released inside him. Now the only sound in the room was that of their fans whirring, both of them reluctant to let the other go for some time.

Normally, Deadlock would be the first to slide off the berth and call it a day, but not after an episode like this.

“Hey…” Flatline started softly, “gonna get a rag, ‘kay?” He pet down Deadlock’s cheekguards, trying to get him to loosen his hold around him. There was a pitiful growl from the grey mech before he glared and let Flatline go. With the other finally off of him, he noted just how much he was shaking, though it wasn’t from rage or conflicting thoughts battling inside his processor. He tried to swat away Flatline’s hand when he attempted to clean him.

“Not a sparklin’…” yet another poor attempt at a growl, and after a few attempts to grab the rag with a shaking hand, he gave up and let the medic clean him.

Once the rag was discarded, the speedster was left on the cooling medical berth as Flatline went over to the footlocker at the end of his recharging berth. He was never one for pillows or blankets since they always seemed to get caught in his seems. Nevertheless, he kept his trunk full of them and started to toss them onto the berth, making a bit of a nest that Deadlock secretly enjoyed, but would never admit to.

The longer he lay on that hard cold berth the more the black pit in his spark started to open up again. A simple aborted whimper was all it took before strong arms were picking him up bridal style. He couldn’t even look at the medic’s face, hands coming up to cover his own as he was carried to the berth. He knew once they both settled down that it would be all over…he could let the wound rip open…Flatline will never tell. He promised.

It was always the same set-up, Deadlock was placed with his back as close to the wall as possible with various blankets within reach. Flatline would lay with his back to the doors and rest of the room, large and strong arms wrapped around the other mech that was nestled up against him as much as possible. Their bodies were configured in a way that if anyone were to walk into the room they wouldn’t even see the speedster. Flatline shielded him from the rest of the world…from the judging optics and hateful murmurs.

Warm and purring frame effectively enclosing around him, Deadlock held on tight to the armor in front of him as the shaking started up again and a wobbling keen left his vocalizer. “I hurt him…” came the pathetic squeak.

“I know…” Flatline tightened his grip.

Thoroughly exhausted, the shaking mass that was hiding from the world finally let himself break. Sobbing into the other’s chest, he let all the pain and guilt stream down his face.

“Let it out...I’ve got ya.” Flatline nuzzled is face against the top of Deadlock’s helm. “I’ll always have ya…”

It was during these episodes that Deadlock had to admit…

Flatline was better than any drug.


End file.
